


Sole Fide

by Downfall



Series: Prophet and Harbinger [7]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bondage, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Femdom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downfall/pseuds/Downfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost ten years after Anders fled Vigil’s Keep, Leliana learns the truth behind the Kirkwall insurrection by faith alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sole Fide

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from the Dragon Age kink meme.

Leliana awoke with a start. The Seeker at her door excused himself, and said again: “Sister Nightingale? Seeker Pentaghast sends word that she has completed her interrogation and requests your presence.” Leliana waved the man off, rolling off the bed to her feet. The images of her dream was still fresh in her mind; a young man with piercing blue eyes and a stern continence, a beautiful bow, his naked form bowed before her, their bodies intertwined and slick…she shook her head, willing the images to fade.

Night had fallen over Kirkwall as Leliana made her way to the Hawke estate. The city itself was mostly secure now that the Seekers had taken over, but across Thedas the fires that had been sparked here raged. If they could but find the Champion, they might have a chance to put the conflagration out before the whole of the Free Marches fell to slaughter.

Cassandra met her at the front door of the estate. “The dwarf knows a great many things, but nothing of the whereabouts of the Champion.”

Leliana shook her head, watching Varric amble away. “The only man who had a prayer of containing this war…just gone.”

“With all due respect, this war is past containment,” Cassandra replied. “Circles across the Free Marches are declaring independence, and the Templars have proven completely incompetent in managing them. We’ve received reports of entire chapters going rogue, either supporting the mages in order to keep themselves in lyrium or slaughtering any mage or _suspected_ mage they can find.” She cast a glare around the courtyard, looking for any Kirkwall templars to cut her ire loose on. “What of the Hero of Ferelden? Perhaps he…”

“Alistair is a good man, but he is also an uninitiated templar. The apostate mages won’t respect to him because he’s a templar, the templars won’t respect him because he abandoned his training to become a Grey Warden.”

“What about the other one? There were two Wardens who battled the Blight; she was a mage herself. Perhaps she could speak to the Circles.”

Leliana crossed her arms across her chest. “Alyna has enough to worry about in Ferelden. The Warden outpost at Vigil’s Keep has all but failed with most of the Wardens there actually abandoning their calling; as it stands, Alyna is the only Warden in all of Ferelden when there should be dozens or hundreds. What’s worse, the skirmishes between the Genitivian cults and the Chantry have progressed to open violence; Queen Anora has been completely unable to stop the violence.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I do not understand how people can come to violence over the Urn. Andraste’s remains are a relic, a thing of reverence and beauty. It wasn’t supposed to _be_ that way.”

Cassandra offered Varric’s book, the book telling the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall. “So do we proceed with the original plan, or keep looking?”

“It is in the Maker’s hands now. We put our faith in him.” Cassandra nodded, turning to direct her Seekers out, but stopped suddenly at Leliana’s gasp. She turned to see the bard staring at a withered, decayed bush planted along the estate’s wall, a single, vibrantly red flower sprouting over the mass of grey thorns.

“A miracle,” Cassandra said. “Perhaps a sign that even in these harsh times there is hope.”

Leliana fingered the eye-and-sunburst icon of the Chantry on the cover of the book, then began rapidly flipping through pages. “A miracle, yes.” She found the page she was looking for and held the book up to Cassandra’s view; a portrait stared up from the page of a man with deep blue eyes and a firm expression. “Who is this person?”

Cassandra glanced at the picture. “Sebastian Vael, one of the Champion’s companions. He is the King of Starkhaven and one of the faithful. I’ve questioned him myself. He knows nothing; I suspect the Champion deliberately kept him in the dark regarding his plans.”

“And he’s an archer.”

“Well…yes…how did you…?

Leliana turned on her heel, cutting off Cassandra’s confusion. “Where is he right now?”

*

Starkhaven was one of the nicer city-states in the Free Marches, Leliana decided. None of the oppressive Tevinter architecture of Kirkwall, real cobblestone streets the sort that Wycome had never quite managed to incorporate. Citizens scattered before the Seeker’s entourage as they rode through the outlying homes and shops, headed for Starkhaven Castle at the center of the city. Word of their arrival outpaced them; by the time they arrived, Sebastian Vael himself and a contingent of his guards waited for them at the castle’s entrance.

“King Vael,” Cassandra said, reining her horse in.

“Seeker,” he replied, bowing deeply. “I offer you and yours the hospitality of Starkhaven, as always. How may I serve the Chantry?”

Cassandra motioned to Leliana. “We’ve further questions for you regarding the Champion. This is Sister Nightingale, agent of Justinia V.”

“Blessed be her name,” Vael turned to Leliana and knelt before her. “It is an honor, Sister.”

Leliana gestured him up impatiently, sliding from her horse and shouldering a heavy satchel. “I would speak with you in private, Sebastian.”

“Of course. My chambers?” Sebastian lead the way inside, down a maze of hallways and finally to his office. Cassandra made to follow them inside, but Leliana stopped her with a look.

“Your services are not needed here, Cassandra.”

Cassandra scowled at the dismissal, but obeyed. “I will stand guard, then.” Leliana nodded, closing and securing the door behind her. The office was opulent in a way that defied Cassandra’s pious description of the man; rich gold gilt decorated the walls, and the furniture was of exquisite craftsmanship. He’d recently taken the throne, Leliana decided. These were not the trappings of a devout man. She recognized the bow hanging on the wall from her dream, and on the desk was a pile of odds and ends that Leliana identified as a necessary for a travelling adventurer; cooking pots, a folded pile of cloth that could only be a small tent and a long cord of rope. Had he just returned from a quest, or was he preparing to set out anew?

“I will tell you what I know, Sister, but I must say that Seeker Pentaghast was quite thorough in our previous conversation.” Sebastian offered her a mug of something steaming, but Leliana ignored it. Sebastian faltered, then put the mug down and drank deeply from his own.

“Seeker Pentaghast is very effective at finding the truth of a situation, but her methods can be limited at times,” Leliana intoned. “I’ve reason to believe that you are more involved with the Champion’s disappearance and the insurrections across Thedas than you’ve let on.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he glanced down to the satchel as she deliberately let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. He bowed his head and again knelt before her. “I swear by the Maker I have held nothing back. How can I prove myself?”

Images from the dream floated before her eyes, and Leliana raised her chin, jaw set. “Strip.”

“What?” Leliana leveled the same glare at Sebastian that she had at Cassandra, to similar effect. “Yes, of course Sister.” She watched as he pulled off first his tunic, then his shoes, breeches and smallclothes. When moments later he knelt naked before her and the scene was so familiar that it weakened her knees.

His eyes remained downcast and Leliana snapped, “Look at me, Sebastian.” He did, a gleam of veneration coming through his uncertainty. “There is something here, between us. I’ve seen it. Something that will lead us to the truth.”

“What must I do?” he asked simply.

Here Leliana was at a loss; her dream had been infuriatingly non-specific. When divine inspiration failed, though, she was willing to fall back on experience. Leliana took her time undoing the fasteners of her armor, letting each item drop to the floor and examining his face as she revealed her body to him. His uncertainty was fading, replaced with outright worshipfulness, and his erection grew in his lap. By the time she stood naked before him it was clearly all he could do to keep his posture.

“You may touch yourself,” she said, sauntering towards him, “but you will find no release, not without my permission. Not until I’ve found…whatever it is I’ve been sent here to find.” Obvious confusion passed over Sebastian’s face, but he began fondling his penis nonetheless. Leliana continued to advance until she towered over him, reaching down to spread her nether lips. “Taste me.”

Without hesitation he tilted his head upward, the very tip of his tongue dancing along her slit. The touch sent a surge of pleasure through her and Leliana gripped his hair with both hands, urging him on. She held him there like that, angling her pelvis to offer him different opportunities and keeping herself on the verge of orgasm. The sensations lapped over her, and Leliana closed her eyes, looking within. What was she supposed to _see_ here?

Sebastian was pressing back against her hands; reluctantly she let her pressure up looking down at him imperiously as if to demand to know why he had slacked off. “May I finish, Sister?” he panted, one hand still sliding up and down his rigid penis while cupping himself with the other. She recognized the need in him, and frustration bubbled in her chest.

“No,” she snapped. Leliana crossed to her satchel, and digging through it withdrew a slender phallus with a collection of straps sprouting from the back end. Sebastian’s face blanched, and she snarled “Hands and knees! Now!” Sebastian obeyed immediately, presenting up his firm rear to her. Leliana tightened the straps of the toy around her hips and thighs, generously oiling the length. Kneeling behind him she pressed the head into the opening of his rear, savoring the low moan the motion tore from his throat.

“What am I supposed to see?” she demanded, pushing the phallus deeply inside of him.

“I’ve…no idea, Sister,” he gasped.

She pulled back with her hips and pushed in again, punishingly quick. “What do you know? Why was I sent to you?” Her frustration boiled over, turning to fury as she grabbed hold of Sebastian’s shoulders. She held him still, taking the leverage to pound into him with unthinking ferocity. “Maker, please, what am I supposed to find here!” Sebastian was beginning to pant, not in pain but pleasure and Leliana viciously pulled free of him. “No! Not yet!” He whimpered at that. She stood pacing back and forth before him, the phallus waving obscenely before her. “I don’t understand, _what is here_ -” She stopped abruptly, staring at the collection of supplies on Sebastian’s desk. Her eye was drawn to the coil of rope nestled among the other items, and her heart seized with certainty.

Snatching the rope up, she turned back to Sebastian. “Get up,” she commanded. He did so, confused, and she handed him the length. “Bind my wrists,” she said, offering them to him palms-up. He wrapped the rope gently around her wrists, and Leliana immediately slipped out of the bonds. She slapped him sharply across the cheek, scowling at his look of shock. “I told you to bind me, not wrap a present.” Sullenly, he twisted the rope round and round and tied it off tightly. She tested the knot, and found that it would keep her for a good bit. “Better.” Leliana crossed to the grand chair behind Sebastian’s desk, seating herself and draping her knees lewdly over the padded arms. “Come here.”

Sebastian needed no further invitation; Leliana raised her bound wrists over her head and gripped the back of the chair as Sebastian pushed his penis roughly inside of her. Leliana gasped at the sudden fullness and snarled: “You want your completion?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Then you’d better make it good, hadn’t you?”

He kissed her ferociously at that, one hand pinning her bound hands over her head. He started slow, though Leliana couldn’t tell whether he was trying to pace himself or to exert a measure of control over her; either way it didn’t matter. The phallus she wore rocked back and forth between them, forgotten, as Sebastian’s tempo quickened and Leliana felt a rising tide of pleasure rising in her as well. She bucked against him, meeting his thrusts fiercely, watching his eyes as he began to lose his control.

“Maker!”

Leliana didn’t know which of them cried out as the throes of passion blasted coherent thought from her mind. She felt Sebastian slip free of her and let out a languid sigh of exhaustion-

“ _The first is that Urthemiel is still alive, and I love him_.”

Leliana’s eyes shot open, memories tumbling through her mind. The cellar at Vigil’s Keep, Alyna…

“ _I’ve realized that the Chantry, the Templars and the Wardens will oppose Urthemiel’s return, and so I’m going to destroy them_.”

“ _I’m going to have to make you forget all this; I know if you remember you’ll try and stop me, and I don’t want to kill you. I’d like to be able to talk to you again, so I’ll allow you to remember what we’ve said when you’re sated with rope tied around your wrists_.”

“ _This is the first thing I’ve done in Urthemiel’s service that I actually regret_.”

“Alyna…” she whispered. “It’s you. All this upheaval has been because of _you_.”

Sebastian had come back to himself, and was looking to her quizzically. “Sister?”

“She _used_ me!” the bard cried, coming to her feet. Turning quickly to Sebastian, she held her hands out to him again. “Free me. No wait! First find more rope and tie it tight around each wrist, then release me. I mustn’t forget this.” His look of confusion was back and she snapped at him again, this time in desperation rather than frustration. “We must make for Denerim immediately. The archdemon is reborn!”


End file.
